Rogue Squadron
by CG2
Summary: Right after the Battle of Yavin, the rebels are scrambling to evacuate Yavin Base. And how exactly does the Emperor react to losing his Death Star?
1. Part 1

Author's note: I welcome reviews, as long as they are intelligent. Unconstructive criticism will be sauteed and eaten in a wine sauce.  
I've probably played havoc with the actual, "official" Star Wars universe, but don't nitpick, OK?  
  
Also, there are no Rebels in this part. Thay show up in Part 2. I reserve this section for everyone's favourite bad guys.  
  
Part 1: The Empire  
  
The Imperial Star Destroyer Villainy cut smoothly through the mass of civilian traffic surrounding the Imperial throne world of Coruscant. As the Villainy settled into orbit, a small shuttle dropped from its docking bay, unfolded its wings, and sped towards the planet.  
Inside the shuttle, the pilot leaned over the comm. "Coruscant Control, this is Imperial shuttle Praetorium requesting immediate docking clearance for the Palace."  
"Copy that, Praetorium," a bored voice came back. "Uh, I'm afraid you're in for a bit of a wait. We've got a great number of ships docking at the Palace today. Something to do with a big Imperial reception. Very prestigious."  
"Look, Control," the pilot snapped. "I don't care if the Emperor is holding a reception attended by God Himself. My passenger needs to meet with His Majesty - right now! So may I - please - have docking clearance?"  
"You just keep a civil tongue in your head, my friend or I'll put you in a holding pattern until you fall out of the sky. The important people get to dock first; then we can deal with your little ship. Who do you think you're carrying, anyway - Darth Vader?"  
The pilot's voice became cheerful. "Yes, Control, that's exactly who I'm carrying." He typed in some numbers. "These would be his personal clearance codes."  
There was a long, long pause. Then, the controller's voice came back. It was very quiet. "Clearance granted, Praetorium, for Docking Bay 2, Level 443, Tower 78. I think I'll spend my lunch break writing out my will."  
"Enjoy yourself, Control. Praetorium out."  
As the shuttle prepared to land in front of the monumental Imperial Palace, Lord Darth Vader sat in the passenger compartment and wondered to himself, How do I explain this? How can you explain that you've let a battle station the size of a moon get blown up out from under you? And, most importantly, How do I get out of this alive? Vader knew perfectly well what the Emperor's reaction would be, and it wouldn't be pretty. He sighed and resolved to place the blame on Governor Tarkin. He wasn't alive anymore to defend himself, anyway…  
A sudden thump roused him out of his musings. The shuttle had landed.  
Vader stalked through the lavish hallways of the Palace. An aide had informed him that Emperor Palpatine was in the Grand Reception Hall. Vader arrived at the Hall, entered, and stopped dead. The Emperor was there, as the aide had said. What he had failed to mention was that he was in the middle of an enormous party. The Hall was crammed with people, ranging from lowly servants bearing food and drinks on trays, to the top brass of the Imperial Fleet. Palpatine's cronies from big business were there, too, as well as aristocratic snobs from the grand old families of the galaxy. There was a festive mood in the air, although Vader couldn't imagine why. He made his way through the crowd to the Emperor, who smiled and greeted him as he approached.  
"Ah, Lord Vader! How delightful to see you! And how good of you to attend this little soirée of mine. It's so thoughtful of you to bring us the good news in person." One of the half-dozen concubines standing by him handed him a glass of wine. He chuckled and sipped at it.  
Vader was taken aback. "The good news, my master?"  
"Why," the Emperor said, "the news that the Death Star destroyed the Rebel base, of course! That's what this whole party is about! Now, I want details. Were there lots of casualties?"  
"Yes Highness, but -"  
"And a big explosion?"  
"Of course, but -"  
"But what?" the Emperor was still smiling, an unattractive, toothy grin.  
"But not on their side, my master. It is the Empire who suffered the casualties."  
The smile fell off the Emperor's face. "Go on," he said quietly.  
Vader got it out as fast as he could. "The Death Star has been destroyed by the Rebels before we could blow up their base. Everyone on board was killed, including Governor Tarkin."  
The room was dead quiet. Emperor's mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound came out. Then, finally, he managed to wheeze, "a space station the size of a moon, and Tarkin let it get blown up by a ragged band of petty criminals?!! That imbecile!! He's lucky he's dead!!!" With that Emperor Palpatine went berserk. Using the Dark Side of the Force, he started tossing fully laden buffet tables through the air, and smashing them against walls, ceiling, and floor. The crowd fled for the exits as the Emperor started shooting lightning bolts from his hands in every direction, all the while howling curses at the late Governor Tarkin. As Vader watched lightning bolts, tables, and Corellian sausage puff hors d'oeuvres fly in every direction, he privately wondered where Palpatine had learned to swear in such astonishingly graphic fashion. Even if Tarkin had been alive, he would have found most of Palpatine's suggestions anatomically impossible, if not morally objectionable. Then, as suddenly as it started, the tantrum was over. Vader and Palpatine stood in the ruined Hall amidst overturned tables and splattered food. The Emperor was as calm as if nothing had happened. "So Lord Vader, how did it happen?"  
Vader was equally calm. "Apparently, a small Rebel fighter shot a torpedo into an exhaust port that fed into the main reactor. A catastrophic chain reaction followed."  
"I see." Palpatine signalled to one of his red-cloaked Royal Guards. "Get Director Lemelisk in here." The guard bowed and left, returning a moment later with a small, pudgy, nervous-looking man. This was Bevel Lemelisk, Director of Special Weapons Projects, and the driving force behind the Death Star design team. His eyes widened at the sight of the ruined Reception Hall, but then he focussed his attention on Vader and the Emperor. "You wished to see me, Highness? Is something - er- wrong?"  
"Yes there is, Lemelisk," Palpatine said dryly. "Remember that nice new Death Star you designed for me? Know anything about something called a thermal exhaust port?"  
"Why yes," Lemelisk replied. "It is an integral part of the reactor ventilation--"  
"Lemelisk, shut up. Turns out that this thing is just wide enough for a torpedo to fit inside and hit the reactor - which is what happened just a while ago. Isn't that right, Lord Vader?"  
"Just yesterday afternoon, my master."  
The Emperor continued. "So, you can figure out what happened after that, can't you?"  
"Well, let me see - oh. Oh dear."  
"Exactly. So, you can see that you should get started on another Death Star - maybe one that's got an exhaust port with a screen on it or something?" The Emperor's voice was very mild.  
"Oh, y-yes, Highness," Lemelisk stuttered. "We'll get to work on it r-right away."  
Palpatine smiled. "Splendid. But first - " He waved a hand. "Guards, have him tortured and executed, please."  
"What!!!" Lemelisk shrieked.  
"You didn't really think you'd get off easy for this, did you? Oh, no! You're going to suffer so much you'll wish you never even heard the words 'thermal exhaust port.' Don't worry," he added as the guards dragged the sobbing man out. "We'll have you cloned so you can keep working on the second one. Try not to screw that one up too, Lemelisk." Palpatine turned to Vader. "I want that Rebel base in ruins as fast as humanly possible. Take whatever ships you need. Also, if you can, get that… person who actually shot the torpedo and bring him back here alive. I want to do something really horrible to him, personally."  
"Personally, master?"  
"Yes, personally!" the Emperor snapped. He continued more quietly, almost to himself, "I don't know why, but I have a bad feeling about this - " He stopped and stared at Vader. "What are you still doing here, Lord Vader?"  
"Master?"  
The Emperor gave an exasperated sigh. "When I said, 'go blow up the Rebel base', I meant now! I don't pay you to sit around polishing your helmet, so get out of here, get your ships together, and get moving!"  
"Of course, my master," Vader bowed. "It shall be done at once."  
"Wonderful." The Emperor started to leave, but then turned back to Vader. "Oh, and Lord Vader - "  
"Yes, my master?"  
"On your way out, call my PR people. I need them to help smooth out this…" he gestured at the ruined banquet Hall, "…'unfortunate incident'. You know, the usual damage control - blame it on the Rebels. That always worked for us before."  
He turned and left the room.  
Vader watched him go, and then amidst a swirl of his black cloak, started his way back to his shuttle.  
He had a Rebel base to kill.  



	2. Part 2

Author's note: This is a big one, but try to stick through it.  
  
Part 2:The Rebels  
  
Luke Skywalker sat in the cockpit of his X-wing fighter and absently drummed his fingers on a display screen. He stopped, checked his ship's clock, and shook his head. He flicked on his comm. "Ground Control, is transport Aldara ready to go yet? It's been half an hour since the last convoy left, and I'd love to get out of here before the Empire comes crashing down on our heads."  
Luke was in high orbit over Yavin's fourth moon, along with the rest of his newly formed squadron, Rogue Group. They had been flying escort for the evacuation of Yavin Base fore close to a day now, trying to get everyone out before the Imperial Navy showed up and made their day a lot worse. Forty-two convoys had got out safely already, and this, the last transport, was almost ready to go, finishing off what (hopefully) would be a flawless evacuation with no casualties.  
That is, if the stupid transport would ever get off the ground!  
The voice that came through Luke's headset was apologetic. "I'm terribly sorry, Commander Skywalker, but there's been a problem with the bloody fuel lines again. Almost got it fixed, though. Transport should be lifting off in a minute, sir, as soon as the last of us board."  
Luke nodded, though the controller couldn't see it. "It's all right, Control. No need for apologies, It's nobody's fault, really."  
The controller's voice was relieved. "Ah, they've got it working now, sir! My crew'll board and we'll be ready to go. Meet you in orbit, Commander. Ground Control out."  
"About time." Rogue Two, Wedge Antilles, sighed over Luke's comm. "Luke, I don't know about you, but being the last ones to leave… gives me the creeps."  
"Tell me about it," Luke replied. "I'm just glad Leia, Han and the rest got out on an earlier transport- " He broke off as R2-D2, sitting in his socket just aft of the cockpit, began beeping wildly. "Uh-oh," Luke groaned as he saw the sensor data. "Okay, Rogue Group, looks life our grace period's just ran out. We've got three Imperial Star Destroyers in system. They're headed our way and I think they're mad at us. I don't suppose anyone wants to surrender, do they?" he asked lightly.  
"Not bloody likely, Rogue Leader," his squadron chorused.  
Luke laughed. "All right, then. Just making sure."  
The slightly nervous voice of the transport's commander broke in. "Transport Aldara lifting off now. Commander, I take it you noticed the, ah, Imperial ships moving in. any bright ideas on what to do about it?"  
"Relax, Captain," came the voice of Rogue Eight, Wes Janson." They're twenty klicks away. Just run in the opposite direction and you'll be out of the planet's gravity field and able to jump to lightspeed before they catch up to you."  
"We hear you, Rogue Eight." Below them, the Aldara's engines lit as it turned to make its escape.  
"Um… What about those fighters? They're launching fighters. A lot of fighters! They'll catch up with us in about three minutes and we need eight to make the jump!" The Captain's voice was slightly hysterical.  
Luke looked at his sensors. Yes, that was a lot of fighters heading in. Seventy-two to be exact.  
"That's where we come in," he said. "It's our job to make sure you get to your jump point in one piece. We'll keep the fighters off you, so your only concern is to run like hell."  
"We're already doing that, Rogue Leader," The Aldara's Captain was calmer now, and slightly dry. "Seriously though, best of luck to you. Or I should say, may the Force be with you." He chuckled.  
Luke smiled. "And you, too." He watched for a second as the Aldara tore through space as fast as it could, then he swung his fighter back towards the incoming Imperial ships.   
It wasn't as bad as he had feared. Seventy-two TIE fighters, in three waves of twenty-four ships, each two minutes apart. That gave them a bit of breathing room at least, though the third wave, he saw, was going to be bad. It was made up of twenty-four TIE bombers, carrying torpedoes. That could be a problem, if the bombers got within range of the Aldara.  
Two minutes to weapons range.  
"Luke?" came Wedge's voice. "We're getting a message from the lead Imp Destroyer."  
"Oh, they want to talk do they?" Luke said.  
"Seems like it, Rogue Leader."  
"All right. Artoo, put 'em on speakers."   
Artoo bleeped, and a testy, clipped voice came on the air. "Attention, all Rebel ships. This is Admiral Prax of the Imperial Star Destroyer Antagonist. You stand no chance against us, therefore, surrender, and prepare to be taken into custody in the name of His Imperial Majesty. If you do not comply, we shall destroy you."  
Luke shook his head. "Stuffy old fart," he muttered. He switched on his comm. "Good day, Admiral Prax. As fun as it sounds spending the rest of my fertile years in an Imperial dungeon, I'm afraid I'll have to pass on your generous offer. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go blow up those fighters you've sent after us, so why don't you go stuff yourself?"  
Luke only caught something over the comm about "such impudence" before he had to cut off Admiral Prax in mid-splutter.   
The first wave of TIE fighters had arrived.  
Two dozen Imperial fighters roared in, lasers blazing. Rogue Squadron's X-wings dodged and weaved while answering the TIEs' fire with their own. Luke had killed three TIEs in rapid succession when he got a call over the comm from Rogue Six. "Luke! A couple of the fighters have broken away and are heading towards the transport, bearing oh-one-five. I'm a little tied up, pardon the pun, so would you mind…?"  
"Not a problem, Hobbie." Luke replied. He swung his fighter towards the distant (but not distant enough) Aldara. He saw two points of light moving toward it. Luke boosted engine power and switched to torpedoes. He targeted one of the fighters and a yellow crosshair appeared over the TIE on his screen. A beeping noise started.  
Almost in range…  
A steady tone sounded and the crosshairs turned red. Luke hit the trigger and a blue streak shot out of his ship.  
The torpedo caught up with the target in less than ten seconds. At the last second, the TIE tried to dodge, but this only resulted in the torpedo missing the cockpit and instead blasting off a wing. The loss of the wing sent the TIE spinning out of control…  
…into his partner.  
Luke winced as he saw the distant double explosion, and Artoo reported the results on his screen. "That just had to hurt," he muttered.  
Luke raced back to the rest of Rogue Squadron, where he was greeted by a pleasant surprise - they had blown up the rest of the first wave of TIEs.  
"Blew 'em all up and no one got killed, I see? That's some great shooting, Rogue Group! Keep it up!" Luke exclaimed over the comm.  
Wedge radioed back. "Luke, maybe you'd better save the congratulations until after the second and third waves, hmmm? Oh, and speaking of which, here comes wave number two, right on time."  
And sure enough, there was the next batch of twenty-four TIEs, racing towards them, tightly clumped together in formation. The TIE fighters began to separate, the formation splitting as they tried to enclose the X-wings. Luke suddenly had an idea. He flicked on his comm. "All ships, head for the centre of their formation as fast and in as tight a formation as you can manage! Move!" So saying, Luke opened up the throttle and dove toward the middle of the TIE formation. The rest of Rogue Squadron followed suit.  
"Now," Luke said. "If we're incredibly lucky, or if they're incredibly stupid…"  
He saw the green flashes of the TIEs' laser fire as they shot past, but nobody reported any damage. The X-wings turned around to face the TIEs again.   
Luke was incredulous. Ten TIE fighters had blown each other up with their own laser fire!  
"I cannot believe they fell for that!" Wes Janson's voice sounded the way Luke felt. "They blew each other up! These people are too stupid to live! Luke, let's go get them - we'll be doing the Empire a favour."  
"Well, I suppose, just this once we'll do them a favour, but don't tell anyone. It might ruin our reputation." Luke grinned.  
The fourteen remaining TIEs were not so obliging, however, and the situation quickly turned into a wild melee. X-wings and TIE fighters looped and dived, spitting red and green bolts at each other.  
Luke felt his X-wing shudder. "Artoo, what was that?" he asked. Artoo's response was not good. A TIE was directly behind him, pouring fire into his aft shield. Luke's fighter shook again. "I've picked one up!" he yelled into his comm. "Can anyone help?"  
A chorus of no's came back. Everyone had their own problems. Luke muttered a rude word towards the TIE pilot behind him and dodged left, right, up, then right again. The TIE stayed with him, still pounding at his aft shield. "Clever," Luke said under his breath. He then cut power to his engines, bringing him to a dead stop. He dropped downwards. The TIE shot past.  
Right into his sights.  
Luke squeezed the trigger, and red bolts shot out, blasting the Imperial fighter into scrap.  
Clever, but not clever enough.  
Luke's comm started beeping. He switched it on. It was Hobbie.  
"Luke, this wave took more time than we thought it would. The TIE bombers just went past a second ago - they're headed for the Aldara!"  
Terrific.  
"Rogue Group," Luke radioed, "switch to torpedoes and fire at will. Pick off the bombers as fast as you can - do not let them get in range of our transport!" He drained power from his lasers to his engines to increase speed and turned his ship towards the far off transport and the twenty-four TIE bombers tearing towards it.  
The twelve X-wings were slowly gaining on the bombers, but, Luke saw, it wasn't going to be fast enough. The lead bomber would get off a torpedo anyway - well, just one torpedo couldn't kill the Aldara, so the bombers still didn't have a chance…  
A whistle from Artoo signalled that the squadron was in torpedo range. Luke targeted a bomber, got it with a torpedo, targeted another one, and got it, too. He saw the rest of Rogue Squadron having similar success. Bomber after bomber exploded under the missile barrage, until they were all gone, but then Luke looked at his sensor readings. As he had feared, the lead TIE bomber had gotten a shot off before it died, but it wasn't a torpedo.  
It was a heavy space bomb.  
Whereas a torpedo might at worst bring down a shield on the transport, a heavy space bomb was easily capable of blasting the Aldara into a million pieces. Luke got a call from the Aldara's Captain.  
"Well," he asked in a strangled voice. "Any other bright ideas?"  
Luke thought frantically. The transport was unarmed, couldn't shoot the bomb down, they had no decoys, they couldn't blow up the bomb prematurely -   
Wait a minute. Luke radioed the Captain of the Aldara. "Captain, I thought of something. Get every piece of debris you can find in your ship - every bit of trash, every spare part you don't need, everything, and blow it out your aft airlock. That should explode the bomb before it hits you."  
"All right, we'll try that. It's not like we've got anything to lose, after all," the Captain replied.  
Luke watched as the space bomb bore towards the Aldara. A moment later, Artoo put a magnified view of the transport on his screen. A debris field was starting to form behind them as more and more junk was tossed out the aft airlock. The Aldara's Captain spoke up again.  
"Well, that's the all of our junk out there. You know, Commander," he added as the bomb bore in, "if this doesn't work and we die, I will never speak to you people again."  
"Can't argue with that, Captain," Luke said dryly. "I guess we'll find out in-" he checked his monitor "-three seconds, two seconds, one -"  
Luke broke off as a point of light obscured the transport, grew incredibly bright, then faded.  
The transport was still there.  
A ragged cheer went up from the rest of Rogue Squadron, and Luke started to breathe again.  
The Aldara's Captain broke in as the cheer died down. He sounded remarkably calm after nearly being blown up. It would probably hit him later, Luke thought. "Well, what do you know, it worked. And we've just reached our jump point, to boot. You'll probably get another medal for this, Commander Skywalker, but for now, would you settle for my crew buying your squadron drinks when we get to our new base?"  
Another cheer was heard from the rest of Rogue Group. "Gratefully accepted, Captain, "Luke replied.  
The Rebel ships formed up and powered up their hyperdrives. Luke muttered to himself, "After a day like this, we sure could use a few."  
The transport and the X-wings shot into hyperspace.  



	3. Epilogue

Author's note: The home stretch. Don't worry - this one is pretty short.  
  
Epilogue: The Empire  
  
On the bridge of the Antagonist, Darth Vader watched silently as the far-off Rebel ships escaped into hyperspace. He then turned to face Admiral Prax, who was white-faced and sweating.  
"Lord Vader, I -" Prax began, but Vader cut him off. "Admiral, I am most displeased with your performance. Not only did you lose seventy-two fighters, but you also came out of lightspeed too far from the system and on the wrong side of the planet to engage the Rebel ships with our heavy weapons."  
"My Lord, I -"  
"Not only that, " Vader continued, "but your incessant maintenance checks before we left Imperial Centre Spacedock delayed us so that we missed our chance to destroy the main Rebel Fleet. Do you have anything to say about this, Admiral?"  
Prax opened and closed his mouth, then said miserably, "No, Lord Vader."  
Vader raised a clenched fist.  
Admiral Prax staggered backwards, clutching at his throat.   
Vader turned to the second-in-command, who had been standing behind Prax. "Captain Ozzel?"   
Vader's voice carried over the horrible choking noises coming from Prax.  
Ozzel stepped forward. "My Lord?"  
"Set course for Imperial Centre. I shall be in my chambers. Notify me when we reach orbit, so I may make my report to the Emperor. This is your ship now, Admiral Ozzel."  
Vader finished just as Prax collapsed dead on the deck like a puppet with its strings cut.   
Vader stalked off the bridge, leaving a simultaneously pleased and disturbed Admiral Ozzel in his wake. Ozzel was pleased at his sudden promotion, but he swallowed as he signalled for two stormtroopers to carry Prax's body off the bridge.  
Someday, he thought, if I'm not careful, that could be me.  
"I think," he said quietly to himself, "I have a bad feeling about this."  
  
END 


End file.
